


Numbers

by alltheamour



Category: Doctor Strange (movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eating Disorders, IronStrange, M/M, Maybe a happy ending?, Mental Health Issues, everyone is just worried about tony lol, i dont know how to tag this, i honestly don't know, im basically a mess and trying to use tony stark to deal with my problems, sorry for the lame tags, tony is dealing with a lot and stephen is his therapist and loki is his best friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-24 12:25:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15630648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheamour/pseuds/alltheamour
Summary: Dr Stephen Strange calmly regarded his patient: Tony Stark sat on the couch in front of him, eyes challenging him to dare ask another question despite the tired dark rings under them. His arms were folded defensively across his chest, his mouth pulled into a tight line as he stared the doctor down. Stephen took note of the lack of colour in his face and the sickly sheen of sweat that had settled onto his skin, and he was almost certain that Tony was trying very hard to hide the fact that he was shaking.





	1. i. Preface.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't plan on starting this story. Honestly, it's kind of just a way for me to get out my own feelings lol, so I'm sorry if it's a mess or if it's not that great. I don't have it as planned out as my other story, so updates might be really sporadic on this. It's probably going to be super angsty just bc I'm probably going to project onto Tony a lot oops.

_Tick. Tock_.

“Do you want to talk about how you’re feeling, Tony?”

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick._

“Okay, then how about why you’re here-”

“You know why I’m here.”

Dr Stephen Strange calmly regarded his patient: Tony Stark sat on the couch in front of him, eyes challenging him to dare ask another question despite the tired dark rings under them. His arms were folded defensively across his chest, his mouth pulled into a tight line as he stared the doctor down. Stephen took note of the lack of colour in his face and the sickly sheen of sweat that had settled onto his skin, and he was almost certain that Tony was trying very hard to hide the fact that he was shaking.

“You’re right, as usual, Tony,” Stephen scribbled down a note; _patient is deflecting – defence mechanism due to guilty conscience._ “I know why you’re here, but do _you_?”

Tony narrowed his eyes at the doctor. He refused to say it. The two men stared each other down for a long moment; Tony defiant and Stephen patient.

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock_.

“I hate your fucking clock.”

Stephen raised his eyebrow but said nothing; Tony clenched his teeth and looked away.

He didn’t want to say it.

The silence between them stretched on and Tony locked his eyes onto one of the pictures hanging on the doctor’s wall; it was a photograph of a waterfall with the sun glowing softly in the horizon. He almost scoffed; he supposed it was meant to be a calming image, but he could only think of the cliché of it: still-life photography in a therapist’s office – was there anything blander?

_Tick. Tock. Tick._

Stephen broke the silence.

“Do you think your behaviour is worrying Loki?”

A pause, and then: “My behaviour always worries Loki.” Tony still wasn’t looking at him.

“Do you think that’s fair?”

Tony clenched his teeth again. _Tick. Tock. Tick._ “We both know it’s not.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?”

Tony’s head whipped around so that he could glare at the doctor, “Do you think I _want_ to? That I _want_ him to worry?”

“Then why don’t you let me help you, Tony?” Stephen said softly, hoping that he was finally getting through to the younger man. “Therapy only works if you let it - talk to me and we can work through this together.”

Stephen watched as one of Tony’s walls broke down and the younger man sighed before letting his arms drop, his shaking hands falling into his lap; he didn’t bother hiding anymore. “Okay,” he said shakily.

“Thank you,” Stephen wrote another note: _best friend is a sensitive point_. “Now, do you want to tell me why you’re here?”

 _Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock_.

“I threw up.”


	2. I. Control.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had he eaten today? He couldn’t remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: eating disorders.

“If we release the new update by next week then we’ll take the attention off of Banner- Tony, are you listening? Are you _running_?”

“I’ll call Pepper and make sure that everything’s on track,” Tony slowed the speed on the treadmill down until he was walking, his breath ragged as he tried to calm his heart back down. “But we should be good to go by Tuesday.”

“I’m on my way up,” was all Loki said before he hung up.

“ _Shit_ ,” Tony quickly pulled his earphones off. He walked to the centre of his makeshift gym which, truthfully, was probably better than most gyms in the area. He let his arms fall to his sides and took one deep breath as he looked at himself in the mirror. “JARVIS, scan measurements.”

There was a moment of pause before, “Measurements scanned, sir.”

Tony started towards his kitchen, hoping to get there before his friend arrived; “Any changes?”

“No, sir.”

Relief, and then, something else – _disappointment_?

 “How far is Loki?” He asked as he walked into an empty kitchen; maybe he would have enough time to make some coffee.

“Two floors away, sir.”

Or not.

He could hear the taller man storming out of the elevator by the time he turned the coffee machine on.

“So, do you want to explain what’s going on? Because I really hope it’s different to what I’m thinking it is.” Loki placed a large pink box onto the kitchen island, and his annoyed tone of voice contrasted the relaxed way in which he pulled his coat off and threw it over a barstool.

“What’s in the box?” Tony peered over at the distracting pink monstrosity as he waited for his coffee to brew.

“A thank-you gift from Gamora,” Loki opened the box to reveal an intricately decorated white cake with the words _thank you_ piped across the top with a flourish. “Now, explain to me why it seems like you skipped a meeting with one of our most important investors so that you could _work out?_ ”

Tony groaned as he pulled himself up to sit on the counter next to the coffee machine; he poured himself a cup, “First of all, who even schedules a meeting for seven in the morning? And second of all, it’s not as if they would have been paying any attention to me, anyway – not with you looking like a European model-”

“God, not this again-”

“I’m just saying, Bambi,” Tony shrugged and blew on his coffee for a few seconds before taking a sip. His eyes swept across his friend’s tall frame; he was wearing an all-black suit – designer, no doubt – and his sleek black hair was pulled into a messy knot atop his head with a few rogue strands framing his face in an almost impossibly perfect way. His pale skin contrasted the dark suit in a way that made him look almost exotic – Tony could just imagine him walking through the streets of New York amongst a crowded sea of dark winter colours, yet he would stand out all the same. Tony frowned; he joked about it often, but he really did think his friend was unfairly handsome, especially with his striking green eyes that seemed to have the ability to pierce through anyone’s heart.

He wished he looked like that.

Instead, he’d been graced with painfully boring features – sometimes he thought that if he stood next to a rock he would blend right in. He hated it.

“Things could’ve gone badly today,” Loki took a seat at the island. Tony thought he looked out of place.

“But they didn’t-”

“But they _could’ve_ ,” his friend emphasised before sighing heavily, “we’re business partners, but you’re also my best friend, Tony. I have no idea what’s going on with you these days. You’re either always out or you never want to leave; you skip out on important meetings for no reason – I don’t think Pepper has seen you at the office in three weeks.” He shook his head; his next words were quieter, “What’s going on? Is it still because of what happened with Steve, or-”

“Steve is old news,” Tony took another sip of coffee. It burnt his tongue. What would be an answer that Loki would accept? “I’m just focusing on myself right now is all, some good quality Stark time, y’know?”

Loki’s brows furrowed together in worry; “If you ever need someone to talk to-”

“You’re my best friend, you care about me, I know. I’m okay, Loki, really.”

Loki watched him for a moment before accepting that Tony didn’t want to talk about it. “Okay, how about we get some breakfast? There’s this new bakery that opened up down the street-”

“Sweets for breakfast? Really, are we twelve years old?” Another sip of coffee.

“This coming from the person who _actually_ ate sweets for breakfast until a few months ago,” Loki rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll get you a smoothie – or a green juice – or whatever it is that you eat these days.”

“I’m not that hungry-”

“Jesus,” Loki stood up, and this time Tony could feel the frustration rolling off of him, “Fine, I get it; you want to be alone – _quality Stark time_ , or whatever.” He pulled his coat on once again and turned to leave the kitchen, “Just don’t miss the next meeting, okay? And don’t forget Thor’s birthday thing tonight.”

Tony heard the elevator doors close, and then he was alone.

The next sip of coffee felt like ash as it slipped down his throat.

-

“Just one drink, pleaaaase-” Loki pouted at Tony as he drunkenly held onto the other man’s arm. “Just have one drink with me.”

“Can’t do that, Bambi.”

Alcohol wasn’t healthy.

“You’re no fun anymore,” Loki detached himself from his friend and took a long sip from his wine glass, red liquid collecting above his top lip before he sloppily wiped it away with the back of his hand. “We used to go out – you used to drink more than me!” Loki giggled and took another sip. “We don’t even talk anymore. That makes me sad, Tony.”

Tony couldn’t stand the sadness in his best friend’s eyes; he wished he could tell him about what he’d been doing, about _why_ he’d been doing it, but he didn’t know the answer to that himself. It had started off with him trying to change, with _trying to be better_ , but now it felt like something else entirely. “It makes me sad, too, Loki.”

Loki immediately perked up, “Then have a drink with me!”

“We should really go,” was Tony’s response; “we have work tomorrow, remember? You don’t want to be late for any meetings.”

“I hate Steve Rogers!” Loki suddenly announced before gulping down what was left of his wine and clinging on to Tony’s arm again. “He’s an asshole, Tony – what he did to you – that was fucked up – he didn’t deserve you!”

“It’s not his fault, Loki,” Tony started walking towards the door.

“It is!” Loki’s arm found its way around Tony’s shoulders. “And it’s his fault you’re acting all weird now – you’re weird – ever since him.”

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?” Tony said once they reached his car. “I promise we’ll talk about it.”

“Fine,” Loki gave him once last pout before ducking down into the passenger seat. He was asleep before they even pulled out of the parking lot.

-

Tony sighed as he walked into his kitchen. He felt completely drained after getting Loki into bed – the other man couldn’t stop going on about how Steve had ruined him, how he had been fine before Steve, how he missed his best friend. Tony almost rolled his eyes – Steve Rogers had _not_ ruined him, far from it. He’d never felt more in control of himself than he did now – he was healthy and organised; sure, he skipped meetings sometimes but that was because he was putting himself _first_. His meals and workouts were all planned ahead of time – he couldn’t help that there wasn’t space for much after that.

He was putting himself first, for the first time ever.

No, Steve Rogers hadn’t ruined him – Steve Rogers had done him a favour.

Tony was about to go to his room when he noticed the box from earlier on his counter. He frowned; he must have forgotten to throw it out.

He opened the box to look at the cake one last time before he got rid of it and he couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face at the gesture; he wouldn’t eat it, but it was a lovely gesture.

He was hit with a sudden wave of curiosity as to what kind of cake it was. The pristine white exterior gave him no clues, and the longer he stared at the cake the more his curiosity rose. He groaned as he took the cake out of the box and got a knife, before carving a small slice out and plopping it onto a plate.

_Red Velvet_.

He idly tried to remember what it tasted like. Had he eaten today? He couldn’t remember.

He pinched a small piece of the red-tinged cake between his thumb and forefinger and took a deep breath before putting it into his mouth. Another groan left his lips as he was hit with the rich, sweet flavour of the cake. When was the last time he had a piece of cake? He couldn’t remember, either.

He blinked, and the entire slice was gone.

Another deep breath. _Go to bed now, Tony. Throw the cake away. You’ve been good – don’t ruin it_.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He was in control. He could walk away – why did he feel so helpless?

He blinked, and the entire cake was gone.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he felt sick to his stomach. _Too full_ , he thought to himself as he poured himself a glass of water. He took a sip; it made it worse.

When had it happened? _How_ had it happened? He tried to remember the exact details, but they all blurred into one image of pieces of cake disappearing into his mouth. He was fine – and then he wasn’t. He felt uncomfortably full, almost as if he might burst at any moment. He could still taste the cake in his mouth; it made him sick. His face twisted in pain as he took another sip of water.

  _Toofulltoofulltoofull_. He couldn’t think of anything else. He leaned over the counter, breathing deeply as he tried to calm the nausea fighting its way through his body. He wanted to vomit, but something stopped him from doing it.

_You fucked up_.

Tony attempted one last sip of water before going to his bedroom. He passed the bathroom on the way and stopped in the hallway, staring at the toilet; the nausea rose again in an even stronger wave – he could almost imagine the relief he would feel if he just threw up. His body would be rid of everything that was causing him so much pain; he would be empty again – comfortable.

He clenched his teeth. _No_.

He walked straight into his bedroom, angrily toeing off his shoes and undoing his pants – his mind flashed with images of pale, too-thin bodies; with sick looking girls hunched over toilet bowls, their bones poking out of their paper-thin skin. No, he was not like them; he would not be like them.

Tony Stark struggled to fall asleep that night, his body protesting at the amount of food he’d eaten in one sitting, and his mind pushing him to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad writing this, because I know it's not just a story. I wish it was. But if you are reading then thank you, and thank you for allowing me to do this.   
> Like I said before, this story won't be as structured as SATT, just because I'm still figuring it out myself - so I might not be able to answer a lot of questions. But thank you, still.


End file.
